


There Are None Who Go by Carterhaugh

by MapleleafCameo



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Ballad 39: Tam Lin, Fairies, Fairy Tale Elements, M/M, Magical Realism, Seelie Court, zimbits - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-30
Updated: 2018-01-08
Packaged: 2019-01-26 20:34:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12565664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MapleleafCameo/pseuds/MapleleafCameo
Summary: What if, through no fault of your own, you stepped through the veils that part the world into the land of the Fairy King. What if you met someone, so briefly, you doubt it happened. What if you fell in love in that instant. What if you would do anything to get him back.





	1. In Which Bitty Meets a Stranger

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Dellessa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dellessa/gifts).



> Thank you [Dellessa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dellessa/pseuds/Dellessa) for bidding on my offering of a fic for Fandom Loves Puerto Rico. Here it is, based on the ballad/story of Tam Lin. If you are not familiar with this tale, here is a link [Tam Lin](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tam_Lin). I have changed some elements slightly and given it a modern setting. There will be three chapters. I hope you enjoy!
> 
> All characters form the wondrous mind of Ngozi.  
> Thanks to mattsloved1 for give this a look:)

_O I forbid you, maidens a',_  
_That wear gowd on your hair,_  
_To come or gae by Carterhaugh,_  
_For young Tam Lin is there._

 _There's nane that gaes by Carterhaugh_  
_But they leave him a wad,_  
_Either their rings, or green mantles,_  
_Or else their maidenhead._

 _The English and Scottish Popular Ballads_ , 1882-1898 by Francis James Child

 

 

The morning sun slept on the edge of the world while the sky dreamt of blue. Bitty did not have time to appreciate the dark morphing into light. Hurrying from his hotel, he shifted his skate bag on his shoulder and moved the steaming cup he carried from one hand to the other, trying to warm them equally. Last week, the fall days were reminiscing about summer, all warm and humid, but today frost kissed the grass and Bitty seriously thought about stopping and pulling out his skating gloves if he hadn’t already been late. He’d get flack for it, and Katya would not be impressed with the pumpkin spice latte. She’d make him do two reps of calisthenics, but he figured it was worth it.

 

With his head down because the wind off the river made his eyes stream, he should have watched his feet. At some point, and he couldn't have said when, but at some point, he tripped. A crack in the sidewalk perhaps, a spot where the frost had crept across, or maybe neither of these things. Whatever caused it, stumble he did, latte splashed slightly out of his cup, and he swore as it landed on his hand. He did stop then, put his bag down and opened it to rummage around, looking for the package of tissues he always kept for when his nose ran during practise. Hand wiped, no damage done, he picked up his bag and set off again.

 

A few steps further and he paused.

 

Something seemed off.

 

He couldn’t put his finger on it but the light or the wind or the shape of the river or the stars in the sky felt completely different.

 

Perhaps the additives in the pumpkin spice latte were messing with his brain.

 

Nearing the address Katya had texted to him last night, he could see a large arena laid out in a typically bulky design. The words Carter Hall hung on the side in stylized electric lettering. The outside, in front, held a garden of sorts; probably placed there to help the building blend in with more sophisticated surroundings.

 

He marched through the garden, to the entrance, hoping Katya’s mood wasn't set to furious.

 

As he came closer, a scent that did not belong in a fallish garden tickled his nose. The smell spoke entirely of summer, and in fact, the air felt warmer, somehow. Other enticing fragrances rose up as he passed between the bushes on either side of the pathway. Curious, he glanced around puzzled to see the bushes were laden with roses in bloom.

 

He frowned.

 

Now Eric Bittle was no gardener, but his Moomaw had won first place every year at the county fair for her roses. He may not be the smartest cookie on the tray, but he certainly knew most roses bloomed in June or July. He seemed to remember her saying there were a few species that continued to flourish through the fall but this was terribly far north, and those were more likely to grow in warmer climes. These roses, even in the predawn light, seem to glow, and the smell emanating from them good enough to eat, thick and rich without cloying. Perhaps he could pluck a rose and gift it to Katya for his tardiness.

 

The nearest bush held a perfect double bloom. The dark obscured colour, but he felt red might be Katya’s favourite. He plucked it and snagged his hand on the thorns, leaving behind two drops on the ground.

 

Sucking the wound on his hand, once again came the feeling that something seemed different. That sense of otherworldliness accompanied by stirrings of expectation in his chest.

 

“Weird,” he said. The thorns on the bushes seemed to snag on his clothes as he continued, ghostly fingers pricking them as if to hold him back, detain him.

 

Off he set, once more, the rose in one hand, the cup in the other. Approaching the doors, he started to move the rose to the hand holding the cup hoping it would not be withered by the steam rising from the latte. Before he completed the move, however, the doors opened automatically.

 

The lights were low in the entry, but he could make out a brighter source coming from down a hallway. He headed that way and found a set of changing rooms. He plopped his bag down on a bench, placed the rose carefully inside the bag and looked around for Katya.

 

There seemed to be no one lurking here but him. He returned to the changing rooms and toed off his sneakers. Pulling his skates out of his bag, he laced them up quickly and found by instinct the exit onto the ice.

 

The rink was large, perfect size for practising. Peering through the gloom, most of the overhead lights off, Bitty couldn’t see any sign of Katya.

 

“Katya?” he called, his voice echoing throughout the vastness of the rink.

 

Nothing.

 

“Katya? I’m here! I know I’m late! Sorry!”

 

Still nothing.

 

“Well fine. I guess I hurried for nothing.”

 

In all of his years of having her for a coach, Katya had never been late, not even once. He texted her to say he was here and starting his warm-up. A faint worry niggled at him, but maybe she had to talk with the arena staff or something.

 

After stretches and some easier calisthenics than anything Katya would have given him, he put his earbuds in, swiped his phone open and selected his warm-up routine playlist.

 

His muscles loosened into his third lap. He stopped, not even winded, to see if she’d responded. It hadn’t sent. No Service sat mocking him up in the corner.

 

“Great,” he muttered. Well, either Katya’d get here or she wouldn't, but if he didn't keep at it and she did show up, he’d have to prove he’d been working.

 

He pulled up Beyoncé, because Katya would have rolled her eyes, and started to go through some simple moves. His body responded, and he felt better than he usually did at this time of the morning.

 

Eyes closed, he let the music move him, let it sweep him away, pliant and supple. He skated backward, flowing with the music, picking up speed into a cautious single jump, getting his body used to the movement. Faster, faster he went, feet flying under him, arms poised, crossing over, slide and jump.

 

Perfect.

 

The morning light began to creep through the large windows at the east end of the rink. It lit the ice, making it sparkle and the feeling of expectation increased. As Bitty moved in and out of the light and shadows played on the surface, near the end of his freestyle warm up, he could feel his body speak to him. His confidence had never been so high. Breaths coming fast, heart and lungs working, he finished with a spin, arms rising above his head.

 

And stopped.

 

His eyes remained closed, and he imagined a crowd rising to their feet and roses thrown on the ice. A rhythmic tapping noise pulled him from his reverie. Eyes opened, and his heart leaped into his throat.

 

Three figures stood on the ice at the far end of the rink, out of the sunlight, shadowed and difficult to see. All three were tapping their sticks on the ice.

 

Bitty pulled his earbuds out.

 

“Oh goodness. Y’all startled me.”

 

No other sound uttered, no word spoken, they stood, tapping, staring in his direction.

 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know anyone else was here. My coach told me we had the rink until nine.”

 

Still nothing.

 

“Um yeah, so, you haven’t seen anyone else here have you? A short, angry Russian woman in her late thirties?”

 

No response, but at least the tapping stopped.

 

Bitty chewed his lip. Feeling nervous, he skated closer. Maybe they couldn’t hear him over the tapping. It was a huge rink after all.

 

As he came closer, he could see they were all dressed in hockey gear, and the two on the ends wore helmets with visors. The one in the middle’s head was bare. Bitty couldn't make out their expressions from this distance, but a chill emanated from them that had nothing to do with the temperature in the arena.

 

He skated close enough to see they were all taller than him and definitely of bigger bulk mostly from the hockey gear, but not all. He hadn't been wrong about the feeling of coldness as they watched him approach with stern expressions. The one in the middle had high cheekbones and icy blue eyes, which held no warmth.

 

“You skate very well, like something I couldn’t have imagined,” said the one on the left.

 

“You skate so well, like nothing I have seen before,” said the one on the right.

 

“You skate like something from my dreams,” said the one in the middle, “but you shouldn't be here.”

 

Eyeing the trio nervously because their responses while flattering were odd, Bitty said, “Thanks, y’all, but I explained to you my coach booked the rink until nine. We’re working on my routine. Look, I know you are all into hockey, but sometimes the ice is meant for other things.”

 

Frowning, middle hockey dude took a sliding step closer. “You are very talented, but this is not a public rink.”

 

“Are you joking?” Bitty frowned, annoyed now. He threw his arms wide and crossed them in front. “Well, that’s just great. I must have got the wrong address, and Katya is probably yelling at some poor arena custodian because I’m not there. No service on my phone to tell her and y’all standing there like some strange hockey guardians of the rink. I’m going to catch hell for this.” Bitty turned his back and began to skate toward the changing rooms. Suddenly stopped, he was spun around by a massive hand on his shoulder.

 

“You do not belong here. You have come where no one is permitted, and you can’t go without payment.”

 

In unison, the other two hockey goons tapped their sticks on the ice.

 

Tap, tap.

 

“Well I’m sorry, Mr. Hockey Man, I haven’t got any cash on me, my coach takes care of payments, and I’m later than anything. Look I’ll give you my phone number, and we’ll figure something out, but I have to go now.”

 

Hockey man scowled at him. “You do not leave until you pay the debt you owe. If you do not pay the debt, I will be forced to keep you here.”

 

“What part of I haven’t got any money are you not getting? Would you like to see my wallet? And I don't think holding me here is gonna do you much good.”

 

“I am not talking about money. I am talking about a debt deeper than that.”

 

“Okay. Yeah, you’re a little too strange for me to be dealing with at this time of the day. I’m going to change out of my skates, pack up my bag and try to contact my coach. If you want payment for me skating around on the ice for an hour or so, you’ll have to come with me to meet her.” He shoved the hand off of his shoulder and skated toward the changing rooms. His heart hammered in his chest, his instincts screamed at him to leave and leave now. The whole morning had been so strange, and this nut job wanted some sort of weird-ass payment from him.

 

On shaking legs, he made his way to the changing rooms and sat to remove his skates. His fingers fumbled with the laces.

 

The man who had spoken followed him and stood, watching him. Bitty felt a bit better the other two had not. It was hard enough dealing with just one of them. He could feel the force of his glower as he took off his skates. Blades wiped, guards put back on, he stowed them in his bag.

 

“Yeah, well look, it’s been fun, but I have to go.”

 

He stood, put his bag on his shoulder and turned to leave. As he walked past, hockey man grabbed his wrist.

 

“You cannot leave.”

 

“You keep saying that, but seriously, I’m going to yell for help if you don't stop this, whatever this is.” Bitty clamped his hands together so he wouldn’t give away how much they shook and his chest felt tight, but he was proud that his voice didn't waver.

 

The man grabbed his arm again and pulled him closer.

 

“You shall not leave. Not without payment. If you leave without payment, you will not leave.”

 

“You’re really stuck on that, aren’t you? Look, I haven’t got any money. There’s nothing I can give you.” He wrinkled his brow. “Well, that’s not entirely true. I have a rose.” He took the rose out of his bag and held it out to the man.

 

The man looked at the rose in Bitty’s hand. His face softened. He turned his hand face up, and Bitty placed the rose on his palm.

 

“You plucked this from the bushes? You took it?”

 

“Uh yeah, I guess, I didn't think…”

 

“If the bush let you take it, it’s not stealing.”

 

“Oh, well, I didn't think of that…”

 

“You would give me this? You could pluck it from the bush?”

 

“Uh yeah, I mean, I know it's stupid, and I know it's not like, money or anything…” Bitty trailed off as he saw a single tear track down hockey man’s face.

 

“Yeah, so, I need to go.”

 

He tried again to leave.

 

“Wait!”

 

“Oh for the love of Pete. What now?”

 

The man held the rose back out to him.

 

“Don't you want it?”

 

“It is yours.” Bitty could see him swallow.

 

“This is far too precious a gift. If you have no other gift, you may leave, if…”

 

“If what?” He threw up his hands in exasperation.

 

He shifted back and forth on his skates as if to work up the nerve to say what he had to say to Bitty. “If you kiss me.”

 

Blinking rapidly, Bitty began to wonder if this was some elaborate prank Katya had arranged, but she didn't have time for that kind of humour, so no.

 

“Now you want a kiss?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Look, I think I’d rather just give you the rose.”

 

“No.”

 

“Umm yeah, no. I’m going to have to pass on that.”

 

“If I do not get a kiss, you can’t be free. If you do not kiss me, then,” he took a deep breath, “then I can’t be free.”

 

“Ohhhhkay, I’m going.”

 

“Please? Kiss me? Of your own choosing? If you kiss me, then someday he’ll let me go. If not, I’m...I’m not sure. And if you willingly kiss me, then it’s not stealing.”

 

Bitty looked at the man standing there. Really looked.

 

He was handsome, in a cold sort of way. His lips were plush and slightly red and chapped. His eyes while still stern were also sad looking and beautiful, his hair thick and dark. If Bitty had made a man out of snow and ice, this one here would have tweaked all the right buttons.

 

Bitty sighed. “I don't do that sort of thing. I don't kiss strangers. Especially ones that are all threatening and scary. I think you’re going to have to get that kiss from someone else.”

 

The man looked down through long dark lashes, his face even more morose. “All right.”

 

Bitty said, “Manipulative much? Do you always try to get kisses from strangers?”

 

“No one comes here. You are the first.”

 

“Fine! One quick peck on the lips, keep your hands by your sides, and then I’m gone.”

 

Hope bloomed pink and gold on the man’s face. “You freely, willingly, kiss me?”

 

“Yeah, I guess, if you call making me feel guilty freely, but shouldn't I know your name or something? You know, before I kiss you?”

 

The man frowned again, etching creases into his forehead.

 

“My name?”

 

“Yeah, I’m Bitty.”

 

“You shouldn’t tell me your name. Names have power.”

 

“It’s not my real name.” He was getting a headache and beginning to wonder if there was some sort of convention going on and this guy was into Dungeons and Dragons but hockey style or something.

 

Bitty held out his hand. “I’m Bitty. Not my real name. Just what people call me. And you?”

 

“You can call me Jack.”

 

“Jack. Okay. Not your real name?”

 

For the first time, a ghost of a smile crossed Jack’s face. “Possibly.”

 

“Okay.”

 

Bitty leaned up and kissed Jack, quickly, chastely on the mouth. Backing off, he touched his fingers to his lips. They tingled a bit. He pursed his lips, nodded once and stepping back again, put his hands on either side of Jack’s face and kissed him harder.

 

Jack kept his hands at his side like he’d been told, but even through the kiss, Bitty could feel him trembling.

 

He broke off. “You can touch me,” he said, softly, full of wonder.

 

Putting one hand on the small of Bitty’s back and with the other, Jack wove his fingers in Bitty’s hair. He kissed Bitty with such tenderness. If Bitty’s eyes had been open, he would have seen Jack more animated and alive than he'd have believed possible.

 

They parted. Jack placed his forehead on Bitty’s. “Thank you,” he said. “You need to go now. You need to go before he comes.”

 

Bitty, slightly dazed and confused, said, “That’s what I’ve been trying to do.”

 

Jack held out the rose. “Keep it. And think of me. Think of me and if you can come back.”

 

Bitty took it. He bit his lip. “I don't think I could ever forget you. This has been the strangest morning of my life. I, uh, I don't know if I can come back, but, hey, you never know.”

 

He left, feeling Jack’s eyes on him. Heart hammering once more, but not from nerves.

 

He walked out to the entryway and through the doors into the morning light.

As he passed the rose bushes and went down the path, he thought to turn, get Jack’s phone number at the very least but he stumbled and landed on his knees. “Great just what I needed.” He rubbed at his bruised knees and looked around, surprised at the darkness. The morning seemed to have melted straight into night.

 

He turned around quickly. The building he’d come out of was gone. There was no garden, no roses and the wind no longer held summer, but blew frosty and cold.

Shaking his head, he couldn't even begin to process what had just happened.

 

His phone rang. He pulled it up.

 

There were twenty-six messages waiting, eight from Katya, the rest from his parents.

 

What had seemed like a few hours in the arena, had been a whole day and no one had known where he had been.

 

“How do I even begin to explain this?” he asked himself as he phoned his mother.

 

Later, much later, after phone calls and reassurances, after Katya’s worried conversation, Bitty climbed into bed. As he fell asleep, his last sight was the rose he’d placed in a hotel water glass.

 

What woke him in the morning was the crying of a baby girl, all pink and perfect, with rose bud lips, his own perky nose and hair of blackest night.


	2. In Which Jack Returns and Bitty Freaks Out a Little

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you once more to [Dellessa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dellessa/pseuds/Dellessa) for bidding on this story.  
> Thanks to mattsloved1 for reading it over.

Bitty stood outside the school with the other parents, nannies, and caregivers. The day, which had begun in sunny, autumnal glory, had slowly dulled and a breeze had sprung up. He shivered and pulled his knit cap down over his ears.

 

The doors to the school opened, and a cresting wave of small bodies rush up to the fence. Several teachers and support staff stood watching the transaction of passing the care of their charges back into the hands of presumably responsible adults

 

A small blur of bright green coat and long tangled black hair rushed at Bitty and wrapped her arms around his waist. He picked her up, squeezed, spun and set her back on her feet. She was getting to be so big and soon, one day, slipping past him quietly, there would come a time it would he couldn’t lift her. On that day he was pretty sure another piece of his heart would crack off.

 

“And how was your day today, Miss Rosie-posy-pudding-n-pie?”

 

Rose held his hand and chattered away, skipping as Bitty walked. About how she and Tanner and Annie had played together at recess and how Rachel had said she wasn’t going to be Annie’s friend anymore. Rose looked at Bitty and said, “That’s so stupid. Rachel’s just mad because no one else will play with her. She’s so bossy. Annie didn’t want to play with someone who always tells her what to do.”

 

Bitty looked down at her and said, “Rose, please don't say stupid. Did you ask Rachel to play with you too?”

 

Rose huffed a bit and said, “I didn't say Rachel was stupid I said it was stupid. No, I didn't ask Rachel to play.”

 

Bitty rolled his eyes a bit at his daughter’s insistence on factuality. “Maybe Rachel is lonely.”

 

“Daddy, Rachel is one of those.”

 

“One of what?”

 

"The ones who say mean things about you. I’m not playing with her until she stops.”

 

“Oh.” Bitty’s heart fluctuated between pride and worry. “Okay.” He needed to think about how to talk to Rose about what people said about him and now was not the time. Now was the hardest time of the year for him between the anniversary and her birthday in two days. The inundation of impossible to answer questions about where exactly she came from would invariably be asked if not from Rose than from someone either acquaintance or stranger.

 

“I have a surprise for you.”

 

She jumped up a bit. “You do?”

 

“Yep. Aunt Lardo and Uncle Crappy are coming to spend the night tomorrow. They’re bringing Thai and board games, and they have a treat for your birthday.”

 

“Are they staying for my birthday too?”

 

“Yes, indeed they are. Aunt Lardo is going to finish the mural in your bedroom. And then they’re going to take you to a Falconer’s game on Saturday.”

 

Rose jumped and skipped some more and continued chatting about her day and her birthday and Hallowe’en and all manner of the things that are far more important to children.

 

About two blocks before they reached home, Bitty saw him.

 

He knew. He knew about a millisecond before. His heart began fluttering in a complicated way, and the hair on the back of his neck stood up. He stopped suddenly, almost jerking Rose off of her feet.

 

“Ow!” she said.

 

Bitty didn't respond, he just stood, his mouth hanging open a bit, heart pounding.

Across the street, dressed in a beautifully tailored suit of light grey, the one person Bitty watched for every single day and checked in the eyes of every blue-eyed, dark-haired stranger.

 

He looked straight at Bitty and ran his fingers through his hair. He was frowning a bit.

 

Bitty wondered if he could hold himself up long enough to cross the street. “Rose, I need you to stay right here, and don't move.” He backed her up a bit, so she was leaning against the building behind them.

 

“But Daddy…”

 

“Promise me! Okay?”

 

She nodded solemnly, her face puzzled.

 

“Don't move and don't go anywhere. I will be back in two minutes.”

 

“Okay.”

 

Bitty, nerves pulling him in many directions and wonder in half a dozen more, walked over to Jack, almost not looking out for traffic. When he reached the other side and stood in front of Jack, words failed to come to him. He let his eyes roam over the handsome, stern face.

 

Jack looked back, his icy blue eyes raking Bitty’s face and searing his soul.

 

“Hello,” he said.

 

“Oh my god, I…” Bitty started and put his hand over his mouth. His eyes teared up. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere, for so long. I, I don't even…”

 

Jack reached out a hand to Bitty’s face and stopped, looking unsure. Bitty glanced at it and nodded. Jack completed the move and placed his hand on Bitty’s face, cupping it.

 

“I don't have much time. I wanted to see you, before.” He stopped and swallowed, looking down at the ground. “I asked if I could see you before the Hallows Eve. He said yes. He thinks I‘m sentimental and it amuses him.”

 

“Who, what. I don't even…”

 

“Shh. Bitty, I’ve thought about you every day. He can tell I’m not interested anymore and that’s, that's not good. He means for me to be payment.”

 

“Payment?”

 

Jack’s face crumpled in frustration. “I can't tell you right now. I can’t say anything here. But will you come?”

 

“Will I come where?”

 

“Will you come to Carter Hall on Hallows Eve? Will you come to free me?”

 

“Oh my god, Jack, yes, yes I would do anything. I, what do I do?”

 

“I can't talk long, but I will see you later tonight to explain. Can you meet me at this restaurant? Tonight? At midnight?” He handed Bitty a card.

 

“Um, yes, I guess. I’ll have to get someone to come watch Rose, but yes, anything.”

 

Jack looked over to the small girl sitting on the sidewalk, watching the two men intently.

 

“Rose?” he asked, chokingly.

 

Bitty looked at her and then back at Jack. And then, with a deep breath, said, “Our daughter.”

 

“I have a daughter?” he whispered, eyes large with shock.

 

“Yes.”

 

“How? I meant when?”

 

“Her name is Rose.”

 

Jack looked puzzled and then closing his eyes, he smiled, wearily. “Of course.” He opened his eyes again and searched Bitty’s face.

 

“May I kiss you?’

 

Bitty hesitated. “Tonight? I already have so much to explain to Rose.”

 

Nodding, Jack cupped Bitty’s face again, turned abruptly on the spot and left. Just disappeared. Bitty blinked and shook his head.

 

When he got back to Rose, he held out his hand. She grasped it and said, “Who was that?”

 

Bitty looked down at her, blinking back tears and smiled, “Your father.”

 

oOo

 

Back at the apartment, Rose and Bitty hung up their coats and took off their shoes. She unpacked her lunch pail, put it on the counter and stood on the step stool to wash her hands. Bitty got out the saucepan and milk and the good chocolate. Rose got the container of sugar and while he measured the chocolate and milk, she measured the sugar.

 

Once the cocoa was ready, Bitty poured it into two mugs and Rose opened the box from the bakery that had been waiting for her since Bitty got home from work. “Oh,” she said, pleased. “Dex made chocolate cloud cookies.”

 

“He knows those are your very first favourites,” he smiled and handed her a card. “He said to say ‘Happy Birthday’.”

 

She opened the card. “He said I can come to watch him make them and maybe I can learn for myself.”

 

Four cookies went on a plate and Rose carried them carefully to the tiny kitchen table. Bitty brought the mugs, set them down and pulled out a chair for Rose. “Madam, your seat awaits.”

 

They sat in silence and munched on their cookies, while Bitty gathered his thoughts.

 

He cleared his throat a few times and began, “Do you remember how I told you about that time I got lost somewhere when I was twenty but I didn’t know where it was?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“And how I met a man named Jack?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“And how he disappeared and I never saw him again but how he let me keep a rose from his garden?”

 

She nodded sipping her cocoa.

 

“That was Jack we just met. He wants me to meet him tonight. He wants to ask a favour.”

 

Rose didn't say anything for a long minute. “Is he really my father?”

 

“Yes, he really is.”

 

“Are you still my Daddy?”

 

“Always and forever.”

 

She rocked in her chair. “Can I meet him?”

 

“I hope so. Just maybe not quite yet.”

 

“Are you going to see him?”

 

“I think I so. I think I need to talk to him.”

 

“Can I come?”

 

“Not this time sweetpea. I think I need to ask him some questions first. It’s all very mysterious. “ He raised his eyebrows up and down and she giggled a bit.

 

“Daddy?”

 

“Yes, sweetpea?”

 

“Do you love him?”

 

Bitty frowned. “I think so. But I need to go talk to him to find out.”

 

She shrugged and ate the last cookie, three to Bitty’s one. “Hey!” he said. She grinned at him, complicated questions about her parents pushed aside for the moment.

 

After the last sip of cocoa had been drunk, Rose brought the dishes back to the kitchen and put them in the sink before getting out her homework. “Math,” she said to Bitty’s questioning look. “Plus twos.”

 

“Easy peasy lemon squeezy?”

 

She stuck her tongue out at the math sheet but nodded.

 

“Do you need help?”

 

She rolled her eyes. “No.”

 

He went in the bedroom to call Lardo.

 

“Hey,” he said when she answered. “I have a huge, enormous favour.”

 

“Sure thing, sunshine. What is it?”

 

“Can you come over tonight after Rose is in bed and watch her?”

 

“Got a date?”

 

“Maybe? Um no. Oh lord, I have no idea.”

 

“Bits? You okay?”

 

“Not really. I just saw Jack.”

 

A sharp intake of breath. “I will be there in five minutes.” The phone went dead and Bitty stared at it.

 

“Crap.”

 

oOo

 

Rose snuggled down under the covers. Bitty kissed her on the forehead and whispered, “I love you, Rosie-posy.”

 

“Love you too, Daddy,” she murmured, mostly asleep.

 

Bitty turned out the light and closed the door a fraction.

 

He walked into the living room where Lardo sat with her sketchbook. She stopped drawing and frowned at him.

 

“You’re sure you want to do this?”

 

He nodded.

 

“You’ll be careful?”

 

He smiled. “Always.”

 

“You’ll tell him if he breaks your heart again, I’ll kick his ass?”

 

“Absolutely.”

 

“Bits…”

 

“I promise that one day you will get the whole story. Today is not that day.”

 

“Okay.”

 

He walked over to the couch and bent to hug her.

 

“I’ll be back in a couple of hours.”

 

“You sure about that?”

 

“Well, that is the plan.”

 

She nodded. He put his coat and shoes on and left the apartment.

 

When he reached the sidewalk, he checked the card Jack had handed him. It was thick, creamy parchment almost looked hand-lettered. The words on the paper were hard to make out at first, seeming to blur and shift. Bitty tilted it a bit. In the light from the overhead streetlamp, he finally made out the words,

 

_Emain Ablach_

_~ fine dining ~_

 

The address was underneath, but Bitty had never heard of the street. While he stood there a long, black car pulled up beside him. The window opened and a man with a thick Russian accent said. “Get in car.”

 

“Who are you?”

 

“I am friend. Jack send me.”

 

“Okay.” He stood not moving, unsure of what to do.

 

The Russian driver sighed. “Jack say, “Tell him to remember the rose.”

 

Still feeling apprehensive, Bitty opened the passenger door and climbed in.

 

The driver pulled away from the curb. He didn't say a single word the entire drive. Finally, in a part of town Bitty swore he’d never seen before, he pulled up to an old building, “Here is place. Go see Jack.”

 

Bitty reached to open the door, when the driver stopped him. “Do not eat anything here.”

 

“What?”

 

He stared intently at Bitty. “If you want to go home, do not eat anything here. Or drink.” He paused. “Except water. Yes. Water is fine.”

 

Bitty nodded, not knowing how else to respond, got out of the car and shut the door. Before he even reached the restaurant, the car left.

 

He walked in and blinked. Inside, beautiful dark wood paneling, silver sconces and deep red carpeting spoke of a fancier restaurant than Bitty had dressed for.

 

A short balding man with slightly pointed ears appeared at his elbow. Bitty tried not to be distracted by the wisps of greenish hair curling out of the ears.

 

“This way, good sir. Your companion awaits you.”

 

He lead the way through a jumble of tables where sat some of the most elegantly dressed people Bitty had ever seen, eating, talking, kissing, drinking. Silvery laughter tinkling through the air and strange music buzzed in the background. Bitty felt self-conscious.

 

They reached a table in the back and there sat Jack.

 

Bitty’s heart thudded painfully. He dreamt about this man almost every night, wondered what had become of him, thought about him constantly and finally was going to see him again, talk to him.

 

How the hell did he start this conversation?

 

The maître d held out Bitty’s chair and placed a menu in front of him when he’d sat.

 

“I highly recommend the seafood,” he murmured and left.

 

Bitty squirmed a bit, glanced briefly at his menu and then put it to one side. He folded his hands and looked squarely at Jack. “So I promised myself if I ever saw you again the first thing I would ask is what the hell happened to me seven years ago?”

 

“Seven years?”

 

“Yes, seven years.”

 

Jack paled. “Time moves so differently.” He fiddled with his napkin. “Bitty, do you believe in magic?”

 

Bitty stared. “I beg your pardon?”

 

“Do you believe in magic?”

 

Bitty started to laugh, slightly hysterically, tears streamed down his face. Jack looked uncomfortable.

 

“Do I believe in magic? Oh my God!” he said when he could speak again. “Do you know that when I left the arena it was evening? I had been missing for twelve hours. And the arena had disappeared, poof! And that when I woke up the next morning I found a baby girl instead of a rose lying on the bed next to me? Do you know how hard that was to explain to my parents and my friends and my skating coach?” Bitty placed his face in his hands “This is not happening. I have been waiting for seven years to find out what the hell happened to me and wondering where the hell you had vanished to and you ask if I believe in magic? Yes Jack, I fucking do.”

 

“Bitty, I’m sorry. You weren’t supposed to be there. No one goes to Carter Hall unless they’re supposed to be there. At least that’s what Kent said. He said you shouldn't have been able to get in.”

 

“Who’s Kent?”

 

But at that moment their waiter appeared. “May I suggest anything for the gentlemen? The chef recommends the lobster risotto this evening.”

 

“Please,” said Jack.

 

“Water,” said Bitty.

 

The waiter paused. “I’m sorry, sir. I did not quite hear that.”

 

Bitty looked and said, firmly, “I will have a glass of water, please.”

 

The waiter frowned and looked disappointed but nodded and left.

 

“Tater warned you?”

 

"Tater?”

 

“Your driver tonight. A friend.”

 

“Oh, yes. No food. But what about you? Should you be eating here?”

 

“I’m different.”

 

“That’s an understatement.”

 

There was silence for a few moments. Then Bitty asked again, “Who’s Kent?”

 

“He, um, he is the King.”

 

‘The King?”

 

“Yes, he is the King of the Sidhe, the fair folk.”

 

“Okay.”

 

Jack held out his hand to Bitty. Bitty hesitated a minute then placed his hand in Jack’s. It felt right as if it had always belonged there. “This is very complicated and I don't have a lot of time to explain. While we are sitting here, someone has already gone to speak to Kent to tell him you are here. He said I could speak to you and I did. I do not have his permission to do so again but I need to talk to you and ask you a favour before he comes for me.” He looked at their hands joined together. “I know I have no right to ask you without any kind of explanation but I promise when this is all over, if this works, I promise I will tell you everything.”

 

Bitty nodded, “Okay. Ask?’

 

“You can say no.”

 

“I want to hear what you have to say before I decide.”

 

Jack nodded. “In two days time it’s Hallows Eve. On that night the King of the Sidhe owes payment to the King of the Underworld. I will be that payment.”

 

Jack’s fair skin looked even paler in the light from the chandelier.

 

“Payment? What does that mean?”

 

“It means that when the gates of Hell open, Kent must give the King of the Underworld a member of his court. I know he plans to give me.”

 

“But what will happen to you?”

 

“If I am given and if I pass through the gates, I will no longer be able to go home. I will be lost for eternity, trapped in Hell.”

 

“Oh God, Jack, what can I do about it? I just found you again. You can't!”

 

“I’d rather not.”

 

“Okay but what can I do? How do we stop this from happening?”

 

“You need to come to Carter Hall an hour before midnight on Hallows Eve. Kent always has a revel before the ceremony. You come and you watch. He may, he may ask you to give him a present. If he asks, you must give him something. At midnight his court will gather and the gates to the Underworld will open. We will pass the assembled folk and when I pass by you, you must grab hold of me.”

 

“Grab hold of you?”

 

“Yes. You won't be able to tell it’s me, though. We’re all dressed the same for this very reason. I’ll wear only one glove and as I pass you, grab me. But Bitty, Kent will try to make you let go. You must hold on as hard as you can. Kent will make you think it’s not me you are holding.”

 

“Don't let go of you.”

 

“No matter what.”

 

“For how long?”

 

“Until he turns me into something none threatening and then you must fling me as hard as you can into the net.”

 

“The net?”

 

“Yes, into the net.”

 

At that moment the waiter appeared with Jack’s plate and a glass of water. As he placed it in front of Jack he whispered. “He is coming.”

 

“Thank you. Bitty come with me.” Jack stood up from the table, still holding Bitty’s hand and led him past the other diners to the kitchen. They walked through and out the back door into a large alleyway where Tater, Bitty’s driver, waited with the car.

 

“Tater, get him back home quickly.” Tater nodded and held the door open for Bitty.

 

Before Bitty got in, Jack pulled him close and kissed him.

 

Bitty’s knees felt weak and he moaned a little, breaking off the kiss to say, “Careful there, mister. Last time we did that, we had a baby”

 

Jack laughed and said. “Don't be ridiculous. We didn’t get a baby because of a kiss. We got a baby because I love you more than life itself.”

 

“How is that possible, Jack? How is it possible for you to love me so much? How can this be real?”

 

“This is Fairy, Bitty. What’s real and what isn’t, isn't for you to decide.”

 

He kissed him again but Tater hissed, “Jack! We must go!”

 

“All right, all right. Bye Bitty. I hope I see you in two days. I love you.”

 

“Love you back,” Bitty said and got in the car.

 

As they drove off he could see Jack, standing under the lamp at the kitchen door, watching them go.


	3. In Which Bitty Hangs On

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here - finally- is the last chapter.  
> Thank you again Delessa for this awesome prompt!  
> thanks mattsloved1 for looking this over

_"But the night is Halloween, lady,_   
_The morn is Hallowday,_   
_Then win me, win me, an ye will,_   
_For weel I wat ye may._

_"Just at the mirk and midnight hour_   
_The fairy folk will ride,_   
_And they that wad their true-love win,_   
_At Miles Cross they maun bide."_

_"But how shall I thee ken, Tam Lin,_   
_Or how my true-love know,_   
_Amang sa mony unco knights,_   
_The like I never saw?"_

_"O first let pass the black, lady,_   
_And syne let pass the brown,_   
_But quickly run to the milk-white steed,_   
_Pu ye his rider down._

 

Bitty took one last look in the mirror. The new green jacket suited him. He adjusted his bowtie one last time, checked to see his hair was still in place and left the bedroom.

 

Rose and Lardo were scrunched up together on the couch. Brave was on, and Shitty placed a massive bowl of popcorn on the table in front of them. Mini chocolate bars lay scattered across the table and some special spooky cookies on a plate to make up for the fact Bitty hadn’t wanted to take Rose out Trick-or-Treating.

 

Not tonight.

 

Shitty came over and put his hands on Bitty’s shoulders, squeezing them. “You are as dapper as fuck, brah.”

 

“Shits, could you watch the language.”

 

“Kinda hard when my name is what it is.” He winked. “Rose is too intent on the Scottish Highlands at the moment.”

 

“Interesting choice,” Bitty muttered. He rubbed his forehead.

 

“M’dude, you look like you’re off to be a snack for a dragon. You don’t have to tell us a thing about what is going on. You know we won't pry but if…”

 

“I will tell you everything if this works out.” They stared at each other, Bitty trying to convey how much he and Lardo meant to him. Shitty nodded, giving the moment the seriousness it was due. There would be no mention of the instructions left with his parents giving Lardo and Shitty primary custody should anything happen. He didn't want to tempt fate by mentioning it.

 

Turning away from Shitty, he knelt on the floor beside Rose, took her hands so she would look at him. “Sweetpea, I’ve got to be somewhere. I’ll be back before you know it.”

 

“Okay, Daddy.” She flung her arms around him and hugged him tightly. Bitty didn't know if he’d be able to let go. Tears welled up, and he held her tight to his chest.

 

“Daddy?”

 

“Yes, honey bunch?”

 

“Are you going to go get my father?”

 

Bitty pulled back to study her face. He hadn't told her where he was going. Not that he liked to lie to her, but he didn’t know if this would succeed and he felt it would be better if she remained unaware.

 

“Yes, I am. You are far too smart for me.” He touched her nose with a fingertip.

 

“Daddy?”

 

“Yes?”

 

“Be careful.” She beckoned him close, put her hand to her mouth and whispered in his ear. “You already gave them something. They can’t make you give anything else.”

 

Startled, Bitty sat back, a slight frown on his face. A shiver crawled down his spine. Rose looked different somehow, She looked like herself but almost as if he was looking at her over her shoulder in a mirror. She looked older and ethereal.

 

She looked fae.

 

She beckoned him again. “If you get scared, say my name.”

 

Bitty nodded, not sure if this would be something he was ever going to understand. He kissed her cheek and stood up.

 

Lardo and Shitty hugged him. Grabbing the pie container and his skate bag on the way out, he left the small apartment. Out on the sidewalk, walking toward the river, he could see children up and down the street, dressed as goblins and fairies, yelling Trick-or-Treat. As some drew near, he marvelled at their costumes. When he got close, he noticed the spindly legs, long noses, spiky hair like twigs or soft like moss, and the hint of wings. He swallowed, his heart racing. They flit from building to building, stalked him and watched with shadowy eyes. As he passed a group, they hissed and mewled, bared their sharp teeth. He did his best to ignore them but felt eyes on him as he walked away.

 

As he came up to the corner, the same car from the other night waited for him. He climbed in and gave Tater a shaky hello.

 

Tater didn't say anything the entire drive. Bitty watched out the windows not seeing the passing city, not noticing other groups of strange creatures, of things riding the wind, of the moon, which should not be full, shining down on the city, silver and bright, painting shadows of light on everything. Moments, days, years later, Tater pulled up in front of a familiar building.

 

He held the door open for Bitty, nodded at him, paused and said. “Do not let go.”

 

Bitty nodded.

 

“No matter what.”

 

“No matter what.”

 

“It is good, what you are doing.”

 

Bitty nodded again, squared his shoulders and walked toward the front doors.

 

As he drew near, he stumbled. A crack in the sidewalk perhaps, a spot where the frost had crept across, or maybe neither of these things. This time he was prepared and clutched the pie container so it wouldn't fall.

 

He felt it again, that feeling of otherness. The light or the wind or the shape of the river or the stars in the sky felt completely different.

 

He walked through the garden, not stopping this time to gather roses. Instead of trying to hold him back, he felt the vines and leaves push him forward until he reached the front entrance. Taking a deep breath, he went in.

 

This time the inside was lit, bright and beautiful. Tiny crystal lights hung everywhere. Instead of the usual industrial look of an arena, the foyer held trees and flowers. The carpet was grass, and he could hear birds and water. He went down the hall, stepped through the changing rooms and out to the arena floor.

 

It was the same. A vast arena, covered with ice, ready for a home game. The Jumbotron was lit with Home: The Sidhe 0, Visitors: Bitty 0.

 

“Okay, now y’all are being ridiculous,” he muttered.

 

The stands appeared empty, but in his peripheral vision, they seemed to hold a large crowd. Movement flickered in and out, and the sound of people cheering and talking, a hum of noise was just below his hearing or maybe too loud for him to understand.

 

Clapping started as he stepped out. A blood red carpet spread out before him, leading toward the far end. He walked toward the man sitting on a throne. A larger than normal hockey net sat behind him and surrounding him were hockey players, reminding Bitty of the two who had flanked Jack long ago. They were tapping their sticks on the ice in time to his footsteps, in time to the beating of his heart.

 

The King of the Sidhe held up his hand. The tapping stopped and fleetingly so did Bitty’s heart. “Welcome,” drawled a musical voice. “You must be Bitty. I have been waiting to meet you, but Jack here,” and he flung out a hand to indicate the numerous hockey players, “seemed a bit reluctant to share.” He leaned forward, elbows on his knees and licked his lips.

 

He was handsome, incredibly so. Fine porcelain skin, grey eyes that changed with the light in the arena to green or blue. Probably changed with his mood as well. His ears were slightly pointed and his eyebrows, gracefully tapered, were the same colour as his hair, the same colour as Bitty’s. A gold circlet lay upon his brow. He was dressed in a hockey jersey, black and white, but made out of silk, not polyester. Bitty stared at the King’s face. He seemed to be trying to wear a benign expression on his face, but his eyes were cruel and as sharp as the blades on his skates.

 

“Good evening, your Majesty.” Bitty bowed low.

 

“I am surprised you were brave enough to come here tonight. I suppose it helps to have assistance from some of my court.” He frowned to his left. There was no possible way for Bitty to tell who was who under their hockey visors but he felt that hockey player looked a bit like Tater. “No matter. I see you have brought me a gift. Good. You may place it at my feet.”

 

Bitty slowly walked forward and put the pie container down at the feet of the King. He kept an eye on the skates.

 

“I am given to understand that you wish to take my Jack home with you. I am rather amused at your audacity. Very well. I am bored so entertain me. If you can pick which hockey player is Jack and if you can catch him and hold on to him then he is yours. If you do not, well, perhaps the King of the Underworld will receive two in payment.” He stood and clapped his hands. “Behold! My court!” The assembled skaters moved out from behind the throne and skated out onto the ice, forming a line of players all around the arena. There were so many.

 

Not sure what to expect, Bitty placed his bag on the carpet and glanced around for somewhere to sit. The King watched, his eyes hooded with amusement. Bitty shrugged, removed his jacket and his shoes and sat on the carpet to lace up the skates. He took his guards off and stepped out onto the ice as he did so the carpet disappeared. His things were picked up by two of the fae and moved to the side. He skated to the middle of the ice and waited.

 

A hush descended on the waiting, invisible crowd. The King waved a lazy hand, and the hockey players were out, surrounding him, skating faster and faster in a circle. Bitty was startled by their speed. The ring of players seemed to expand and shrink, hypnotic in their movement. A whine of panic crept into Bitty’s head. He couldn’t do it. He would be able to tell which was Jack. The players skated closer, and some brushed him with their elbows, some thwacked him with their sticks. He sank to his knees, scared. His held his face in his hands and shook all over. He’d never leave here. He couldn't do it. He’d never save Jack. How could he decide? How could he get back to Rose?

 

Rose.

 

“Rose,” he whispered. A breath of summer wind blew through the arena bringing with it the scent of roses, almost overpowering, but familiar and loved.

 

He remembered what Jack had said. I’ll wear only one glove.

 

Concentrating, he watched the skaters. They were skating so fast, but there, that player with the number one on his jersey. He only had one glove. Bitty followed him with his eyes, even though it made him dizzy. He skated toward him. They were so very fast.

 

But Bitty had been built for speed. No one could outskate him. He skated in the same direction the players were going and gathered speed under him. Faster and faster he went. Ignoring the skater with one glove, pretending he wasn’t the one he wanted. He gained measured distance and came closer with each turn of the circle until…

 

He reached out and snagged the corner of Jack’s jersey.

 

And he hung on.

 

Jack shook, he shook and shook making Bitty’s teeth rattle. But he clung to him.

 

He could feel Jack’s body change, and Bitty held an enormous, angry bear, taller than he was, with teeth and claws. They ripped into his flesh and Bitty screamed.

 

But he hung on.

 

Next Jack was a lion, roaring in his ear, biting him. Bitty screamed more.

 

But he hung on.

 

A thorn bush and a raging river, an eagle and a thunderstorm.

 

But each time Bitty clung tighter no matter what shape Jack took, no matter the pain he felt.

 

Jack turned into flames, hot and fierce and Bitty felt his flesh melt, but he hung on.

 

Finally, the flames dwindled became a burning ember, small and bright. Bitty watched as the fire died out and on his palm, untouched by fire or claws, he held a hockey puck. Bitty drew back his arm and threw the puck as hard as he could into the net behind the throne.

 

There was a hush over the invisible crowd and then cheers and yelling. Confetti rained down on him from the ceiling. The Jumbotron flashed with an instant replay of Bitty’s throw, and the score now read Home: 0, Visitors: 1.

 

Bitty hurried over to the net where he found Jack, lying naked on the ice. He scooped up his new green jacket and covered Jack with it as best he could and helped him to his feet.

 

Jack blinked at him. “Bitty,” he said. “You did it.” He swayed a bit, and Bitty put his arm around him. They turned to face the King.

 

The King looked thunderous. “So. You have saved your boy. I will let him go.”

 

He waved his hand to dismiss them.

 

“But,” he said as Bitty turned Jack around. “I think you will stay.”

 

Bitty said, “No, I don't think I will.”

 

“My court. My rules.”

 

Bitty tilted his head. “You can not change your rules. You said if I caught Jack and held on to him you would let us go. I have caught Jack. I held on to him no matter what form he took. I owe you nothing. I gave you a pie as a gift. Last time I was here I left drops of blood behind. Our daughter tethers us to the real world. We’re going.”

 

“Jack.”

 

Jack slowly turned to face the King.

 

“Stay. Love me, worship me and I will be yours forever.”

 

“No Kenny. No more. I have lost too much to you.”

 

The King frowned and turned to Bitty.

 

“Bitty stay. Stay and fear me. Love me. I will be your slave.”

 

“No thank you, sir. I saw that movie.”

 

“I know your name! I command you to stay!”

 

“Not my real name. Nice try. We’ll be leaving now.”

 

They left the arena to the howls of the King.

 

As they stepped toward the exit, the smell of sulfur covered the clean scent of ice and the warm scent of the garden in the entry.

 

Jack wrapped his arm around Bitty, leaned on him and whispered. “Let’s go. Do not look behind you.” Eyes forward, Bitty held tight to Jack and guided him out, out through the changing room, down the hall and out to the entryway. The flowers and trees were fading, the lights had dimmed, the grey walls of the arena were more visible. They went through the door and into the garden outside.

 

The ground shook, and the sound of wailing could still be heard. Once outside they quickened their pace and left the building behind them. As they went down the path, they stumbled and fell to their knees. The building disappeared, and they were in the middle of a park on the waterfront. The early stirrings of the sun could be seen in the lightening of the sky.

 

Bitty stood and helped Jack to his feet. Jack cupped Bitty’s face and kissed him, kissed him deeply, completely, free of any trace of the King.

 

“How can I thank you?”

 

“Sweetpea, Let’s get you home, cleaned up and meet your daughter. You are all kinds of naked and I don't want the police stopping us to find out why. Then you can thank me. You can thank me any way you like.” Bitty grinned at him, stood up on his toes and kissed Jack again.

 

They walked the path through the empty park. As they approached the street, a car stood waiting for them.

 

“Tater! You’re all right. I thought Kenny would punish you.”

 

Tater grinned as he held the door to them. After they had climbed in and Tater sat behind the wheel, he said, “He was angry for days, throwing magnificent temper tantrum. He almost gave me to the King of the Underworld for help I gave you, but he gave him the pie instead.” Tater threw back his head and laughed. “So angry was he, but The King of the Underworld like pie so it’s all good. I did not have to go. Not this year.”

 

He drove them to Bitty’s apartment building and held the door for them. “Goodbye Jack, Goodbye Bitty. Be safe. No more hanging out in forbidden arenas. Go live your lives.” He got in the car, and it disappeared into the morning light.

 

Bitty said, “Do you think he will be okay?”

 

Jack shrugged. “Yes. Yes, I think so.”

 

Bitty pulled Jack by the arm into the building. “Come on. Your daughter will be waking up. Let’s go meet her.”

 

Epilogue

 

_After Rose and Shitty and Lardo wake up Bitty makes breakfast, and Jack tries to explain how he ended up with the King of the Sidhe, but the further away from Fairie the harder it is to remember._

_Jack calls his parents. That conversation is difficult. They only know their son was missing for years, but now he is found. When they meet again, there are tears of joy and tears of sadness. For the sake of their newly discovered grandchild, they nod their heads while Bob tells stories of strange magic surrounding the Stanley Cup, so anything is possible._

_On dark nights when the storms ride through the sky, and the wind howls around the eaves, Jack is afraid. He stays in bed, and Bitty cuddles him, spooned up behind him, whispering soft murmurs in his ear. “I am here. I love you. I won't ever let you go.”_

_On Hallows Eve, they put rowan and salt around the windows, there’s a wreath of blackberry stems and ivy on the door and bowls of milk outside, beyond the boxwood hedges. Rose doesn't mind missing tricks or treats for her fathers love her and she them. They have had enough tricks to last a lifetime. They will not lose each other again._

_Now and then they see strange things out of the corner of their eyes or at dusk when the fireflies swarm around her, Rose talks to people who aren’t there. “Ignore it,” they say to each other. “Ignore it.”_

_Sometimes, after they have loved on each other, Bitty lies in Jack’s arms and asks if any of it had been real. He wonders if they will live happily ever after or will there come a time when the King of the Sidhe will try to claim Jack for his own._

_Jack holds Bitty close, puts his chin on his head and says. “Nothing in life is certain. I can't guarantee a Happily Ever After. Bitty, this isn't a fairytale, but it is a tale about fairies. That is all the difference.”_

_He kisses Bitty then, kisses him with love and promises, with sunshine and roses._

_“But I can guarantee I will love you for the rest of my days.”_

_Bitty smiles and murmurs, “Me too.”_

_The night closes in, and the sun goes to sleep. There will be morning tomorrow and pie and love and their daughter._

_What more could anyone need?_


End file.
